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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28381497">Beneath the Stone</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toshi_Nama/pseuds/Toshi_Nama'>Toshi_Nama</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Assassination Attempt(s), Beards (Facial Hair), Culture Shock, F/M, Freckles, Orzammar (Dragon Age), Perfume, Trapped, crackship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:55:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,438</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28381497</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toshi_Nama/pseuds/Toshi_Nama</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when the elven second to Nightingale goes beneath the stone? Charter had expected many things. Cutthroat politics, weird orange light, and a culture entirely different? Yes. What she wound up getting into? Not...so much.</p><p>King Harrowmont turned out to be a lot more willing to help than she'd expected.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Charter/Pyral Harrowmont</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Beneath the Stone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jarakrisafis/gifts">Jarakrisafis</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Charter bit back a shudder. For all the things she’d seen, all the things she’d done, somehow this was harder. The orangy glow gave her a headache. Maybe it was the smell of sulphur and stonedust, she mused. In either case, she had to blink aching eyes every three steps.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is why Nightingale told me to bring perfume. I thought she was just being Orlesian again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, there was something in her pack, it was just buried too far down to be useful now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you like to take a moment, messenger from the Inquisition?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded. “Charter..” </span>
  <em>
    <span>is not fine here, </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Messenger Charter, from the Inquisitor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her guide nodded, his face at too odd an angle for her to read his expression with any certainty. She breathed in through her mouth. “Of course, of course. I’ve seen the note sent on ahead. It’s not that simple, but the King himself has said he’ll explain the situation!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>king </span>
  </em>
  <span>of Orzammar? Charter filed through the briefing she’d gotten before coming here. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Felandris. </span>
  </em>
  <span>That was worse than she’d expected. This was supposed to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>simple. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Go in, make nice with the blowhards of the Shaperate, especially with the lovely lyrium contract she </span>
  <em>
    <span>also </span>
  </em>
  <span>had in her bag, and leave. Oh, and drop something off with some smith on the way. She had professional attire, but to meet with King Harrowmont himself? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Time to improvise.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The room she was shown to was nice, if...orange on stone. Everything felt heavy, and she forced herself to breathe. There was water in the corner - she ignored it and scrambled into her pack for the nice uniform she’d bundled in, her hairbrush, that fancy comb, and most importantly…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One deep breath, and her eyes closed. Embrium, tobacco, and rose petals. It was an odd combination, but it brought back memories of the study Nightingale had taken over when she’d started Charter on the shadowed path she walked now. There had been flower beds just outside the open window, and the ‘host’ enjoyed his cheroots so much it permeated the soft leather chairs, even the parchment of the first codebooks she’d ever read.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It gave her the motivation to change and brush her hair. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>wouldn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>let the weight of this place take her from who she was. Charter was one of Nightingale’s best, and she would show it. She was just pinning it up when there was a pounding on the door. Pounding? The dagger was in her hand before she called out ‘enter’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man who came in wasn’t her earlier escort - he was much older. The beard that seemed to come standard was intricately braided and left no trace of what color it had been before age leeched it away. “Messenger Charter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” she said simply, measuring him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was...almost her height, but not quite. While his beard gave off hints of ‘kindly,’ it contrasted with the weary coldness in his eyes. Precious stones studded his jerkin - probably metal-reinforced, or even leather would tear. Whoever he was, he was important. However, he moved with a hint of gout, and had only a token dagger rather than the heavier maces and hammers that seemed to be common. That got rid of her first guess, that he was a warrior. The dagger gave it away. He chuckled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, I’m…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled. “Adapting, I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then the world caved in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was her perfume that woke him. “Embrium and rose,” he mused. “I’ve never seen either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They bloom in the late spring - they need more water and softer soil than the rocks here.” It was only the latest in the conversations they kept having as the dust settled. Sooner or later, he promised, someone would get them out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a rockslip, not an assasination,” he said again. Yeah, she didn’t believe it either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The timing was too convenient - which meant the only question was whether it was aimed at her, or at him. She’d guess the former, even if it made less sense. Who would expect the King of Orzammar to visit an envoy personally? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The marks on your face..”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She touched them. “Oh. Freckles. You get them in the sun.” Then she took the bottle back and breathed deeply to hold back her fear. Nightingale had sent her. They’d be dug out. Someday. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No, soon. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re beautiful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How long had it been? If it weren’t for the lava, they wouldn’t even have light. Her pack was crushed only feet away from them. It had been long enough for her to blush as he squeezed her hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Never get involved with a contact.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She shouldn’t. He was an unknown. The attempt was too timely, and she couldn’t risk her mission. Besides, he was old enough to be her grandfather.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He squeezed her hand. “They’ll come soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice </span>
  </em>
  <span>voice, a kindly one. It matched his beard, not his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andraste’s mercy, she shouldn’t be thinking like this!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She </span>
  <em>
    <span>also </span>
  </em>
  <span>shouldn’t lean over and kiss the three square inches of non-bearded cheek so close to her, but she did it anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The perfume bottle was set carefully as far as their little pocket of orange-lit stone let them. He treated it like a treasure - like he treated her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Here, </span>
  </em>
  <span>her ears didn’t matter so much.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Here, </span>
  </em>
  <span>a tiny voice said in the back of her mind, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re actually taller. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Charter stuffed down the giggles at that, knowing it was hysteria speaking. His lips were dry - well, hers probably were, too. And if they were less demanding, it was clear that Harrowmont had plenty of time to learn how to use them. He peppered her skin with kisses and caresses, drawing a gasp as he found a particularly sensitive spot at the corner of her jaw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” she said firmly. “You should get rid of that tunic and suggest we move to the bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow, it had survived. Once they pulled off the shard-covered duvet, the sheets were smooth as silk against the skin of her back. She looked at the man with her - he was much broader than she’d guessed, thinking the jerkin had filled out his shoulders. Oh, sure, he had a paunch from age and rich living, but that didn’t affect the delicacy of his fingertips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me what you want,” he whispered into her ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She did, tangling her fingers in the braids of his beard to tug him down, writhing as he kept exploring her sun-dotted skin. “There.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>had a lover with more than stubble. The way his beard rubbed against her thighs was yet another sensation against the heat of his breath and the dryness of his lips - a dryness that was nothing like the moist flexibility of his tongue as he explored further, teasing her until she arched and moaned, then pulling her hips back flat to do so again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And again.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Andraste. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He’d offered, but she held out until the pleasure and wanting pierced her to the core before she said “Now!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And ‘now’ came, hard and thrumming through her bones, and she rode it until she could demand more. Because if his </span>
  <em>
    <span>mouth </span>
  </em>
  <span>was that good, she had to find out the rest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come here,” she gasped, “all of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were trapped under the weight of a mountain, but the King himself had freed her to fly high, and she wasn’t done yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shouts brought them back to the present. He collected her bottle of perfume as she tried to collect her wits along with her clothing. He’d already pulled on his pants, and as soon as the precious bottle was in her hands, he pulled the gem-studded jerkin over his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here.” Then he raised his voice. “Over here!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The babble turned into words. Her heart stopped. “King Harrowmont-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“King Harrowmont! We thought you were dead! The assassins...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Assassins. She was right - and so had he been. Impressive, which backed up Nighingale’s briefing that the Game was nothing to daily life for Orzammar’s Noble Caste.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The old King chuckled, pulling her mind from the clockwork analysis of Nightingale’s best lieutenant to something far different. Oh, he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>good. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He leaned over to kiss a freckle, tucking her wild hair behind one ear. “I think in private, ‘Pyral’ is fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blushed. She was Nightingale’s best! She </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>better than to have...have...not that she was going to complain, but she opened the bottle of perfume, letting embrium overpower the tangy musk that filled her senses. It couldn’t get rid of the taste on her tongue, but..</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe…</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nightingale didn’t need to know this.</span>
  </em>
</p>
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